


Ashes, Ashes

by ReaderJane



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaderJane/pseuds/ReaderJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody believes a prophet, especially when she's Drusilla.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes, Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: somewhere in Europe  
> Timeline: between Prague and School Hard  
> Written for the sb_fag_ends prompt, Snowflake  
> Disclaimer: still not mine, alas

Spike groaned when he heard Drusilla's maniacal laughter.

"Pet? Where are you?" He walked through the barn's entrance, counting his way past the empty stalls. Dead horse, dead cow, dead farmer... Dru.

She was sprawled on her back , sweeping her arms and legs across the floor.

"I'm making snow angels!" Drifts of gray piled up between her limbs.

"It's not snow, baby. Those are ashes. I've just dusted two more fledges. You've got to stop turning people before they raise a mob."

Drusilla lifted her arm langorously. Flakes of ash fluttered down like snow.

"You remember Prague, don't you? The torches, the pitchforks? There's a steamer leaving from the dock tomorrow night; if we can just avoid attention until then--"

"Covered in ashes," Dru murmured.

"Yes, you are. Now come on, love, let's get underground. It'll be dawn soon and these walls have too many cracks in them."

"The light lifts you so high." She demonstrated with one hand.

Spike sighed. There was no reasoning with her in this mood. He bent and picked her up, scuffling his feet through the drifts as he shifted her weight to his shoulder.

"She's floating all around you like little snowflakes," Dru continued as Spike elbowed the stall door aside. "The Slayer..."

"The Slayer's in California. Other side of the world." He stepped over the dead dog on his way to the cellar door.

Drusilla continued as if he hadn't spoken. "But don't be afraid; you won't be a snowman. There's no snow in California. Only nasty, burning sun. All burnt to ashes." She started to keen.

"Then we won't go there, hey?" He changed, the better to see as he felt his way down the stone stairs.

"It's too late for that. You're already leaving me."

"You must be ill, Dru. All those kills and you're still so frail. Once we're on that steamer we'll go someplace new. Find a cure for you. Something to put color back in your cheeks."

"But not California?"

His foot reached the cellar's dirt floor. "No, of course not."

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down..."


End file.
